Saturday, July 22, 2006

Death, You Meant

Death, You Meant

There are certainties: The latent seedsrevealed in the halved apple.Worm, you meant. You saw the pointof entry. You dismissed the imperfections,the bruise, the tiny portal, convinced the yieldwould still be sweet. The sleeping wormsawakened beneath the overturned stone.Worms, you meant. Startled by their pinkand wriggle, you flinched. Once you rescuedthem from puddles to wind aroundyour chubby fingers. Remember when youhoped? The seethe of maggotsin the eye socket of the dead squirrel.Babies, you meant. Death, you meant.The stench and heft of the corpsedidn’t bother you at all as you flungit into the woods. You should’ve coveredthe body with leaves. You should’ve attempteda decent burial. You shouldn’t pick updead things by the tail. You should alwaysalways dig a hole. Right now, your white cat licksthe bottom of his pristine feet. You will never have to clean yourself with your mouth. Still,you are an animal; you’ve sucked bloodinstinctively from paper cuts and cooled woundswith your tongue. Once, you knew how to seala man shut and break him open with justeyes and lips, hands and pelvis. What happenedto that woman who never had time to mourn?